In appreciation of others’ work, sacrifices

Many of us remember the haunting scenes of Steven Spielberg’s 1998 film “Saving Private Ryan,” especially the closing moments at the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial in Colleville-sur-Mer, Normandy, France, when James Ryan, now an old man, stands before the grave of Capt. John Miller, who led the company of men that saved Ryan’s life when he was a young private. Recalling all the sacrifices that made it possible for him to stand before Miller’s grave – one in a sea of identical headstones, monuments to sacrifice and courage – Ryan asks his wife if he has led a good life, if he has earned the salvation that Miller and countless others bought for him with their lives, their valor, their dedication to duty.

Private Ryan’s experiences were not unique. Only because of the sacrifices and good deeds of others are we able to stand where we are today. Some of those sacrifices stand out for their remarkable character. For me, the firefighters who saved our home and the dozens of other homes in our neighborhood in 2007 as the Witch fire ripped through our little corner of the world symbolize the many individuals who have risked their lives – and sometimes lost them – so that my life can continue.

Yet such acts of conspicuous heroism are only the tip of the iceberg. Countless others have put themselves in harm’s way, have extended themselves in ways that made my life better, fuller, more joyous. Some are too personal and private to mention here, but others are just actions of ordinary individuals who together weave the fabric of goodness that makes our daily lives possible. When I drive to work in the morning, the roads I travel were constructed by others; the safety of my commute is largely the result of the ways in which many other drivers commute with care, making up for the few who do not. Our vehicles keep us far safer than we have ever been in the past. As we drive from place to place, we are able to enjoy the beauty of the natural world that surrounds us.

My students are a special gift, a gift I try to earn by giving them the best course I can teach, by spending time talking with them after class about their hopes and fear as they prepare to go out into the world. And even as I try to help them, I recall the many who aided me, who took the time to listen and advise, who ignited the spark of inquiry in me, who nourished the life of the mind. And I imagine those who do the same for my daughter, home this week from college in New York where she is creating a life of her own. I see my students and think of her, and this prompts me to treat them with the concern and respect that I hope my daughter receives from her professors. I see her face and her hopes in the faces and dreams of my students, and I gave thanks for all that we all have and for the opportunity to do for others what so many have done for me.